


Trouble With Tracys

by iamSHERLOCKED4ver



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Angst, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:51:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamSHERLOCKED4ver/pseuds/iamSHERLOCKED4ver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months after the events in the movie, the Tracys face another situation that will shake them to the core. What they discover as they try to reunite their family and recover from another attack, brings their past bubbling into the present and the future about to take a turn.</p><p>This story was first posted in the early 2000s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Dark of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> If this seems familiar, there is a reason for that. This story is posted elsewhere on the internet, but I wanted to bring all my various excursions in a multitude of fandoms together on one website. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this story as much as I did writing it. 
> 
> More notes to follow.

Chapter 1  
In the Dark of the Night

The light flickered and sputtered as the lit candles burned steadily. Across the room, a figure moved. The light shone off a smooth baldhead and high forehead. Knowing his slave awaited his order, he spoke in a low tone that sent shivers through the man standing behind him.  
“Bring her.”  
The first man did not even turn around; he knew the slave would obey. He was too scared not to obey. A feeble light showed a twisted grin escape his normally emotionless face. The door was flung open, and two strong men came in, dragging a small, struggling figure. The shadows enveloped it, making it impossible for any to see the expression of loathing and something else on its face. Fear.  
“Leave us.” Soon they were alone. The small figure stood, barely able to contain the shivers of fear running through its body. The man walked slowly towards the small figure, eyes gleaming strangely in the candlelight. They seemed to almost glow red.  
“And how are we today, Miss Danvers? What, no answer? Surely, you must have something to say.” A slight chuckle rent the air. Before the small figure could make a sound, the man’s red silk covered arm made contact with her head. She fell. Hard.  
“Did that hurt, my dear? Tell me, were you scared?” The figure, now laying half way in the shaft of light, did not utter a sound. The man studied it as the legs, covered with see-through silk, struggled to lift the body off the unforgiving ground. The silk slippers, poor protection to the cold that permeated the harsh stone temple, slipped and slid until they found traction. As soon as the shadowy figure stood, an invisible wall of force was flung from the man to the standing figure, which was sent flying through the air until the small body made contact with the stonewall. Amazingly, there came no sound from the obviously hurting figure: no sharp cry of pain, no voice begging the torment to end.   
“Still nothing? My dear, how long do you think you can keep this up? You have remained strong, which is admirable. But how long can this last? Sooner or later, I will win. I will succeed with you as I will succeed with International Rescue.” As he said this, he grabbed her arm and pulled her close to his face. The candlelight fell full on his face, highlighting the hard, determined face and cruel, cold, black eyes. This same fickle light continued to shield the young lady’s face from sight.   
“In fact my dear, soon the Thunderbirds will be no more, thanks to me, The Hood. And your last hope will be gone, won’t it, dearest?” He flung her to the ground and pulled something from the sash wrapped around his waist. The girl flinched and raised a hand in a pitiful attempt to stem the horror to come.   
As the man raised the whip to strike, his cold voice echoed through the room. “The Thunderbirds, like you, will be mine.”  
CRACK.


	2. Just A Normal Day

  
**Chapter 2**   


**Just A Normal Day  
**

“Thank goodness it has been so quiet around here lately. The pressure and strain were really starting to get to us all, Dad.” The young man stretched and moved to a more comfortable position in the chair. He looked over to the older man sitting across from him.

“I know, son; twenty rescues in two weeks is insane. I’m glad these last few days have been peaceful…” The two men jumped up quickly as what seemed like tons of freezing cold water spilled over their heads. Turning quickly to look behind them, they saw, respectively, their brother and son Gordon shaking with laughter with a water hose in his hands.

“Gordon, you…” Jeff Tracy was, unusually, at a loss for words. However, his oldest son Scott knew precisely what to do. Braving the spray of water still shooting from the hose, he rushed his younger brother. Years of training, both in the Air Force and later with International Rescue, came into play as he grabbed his brother and quickly rendered him incapable of further harm with a headlock. He then picked up his trickster brother and threw him unceremoniously into the large swimming pool. Comically brushing his hands together, Scott turned to his father.

“Well, as peaceful as possible with _him_ ,” jerking his thumb over his shoulder, “around.” Jeff chuckled, and moved to sit back down in the now drenched beach chair. As he moved towards the chair, music began coming from his side pocket. As Jeff pulled out his cell phone, he noticed peripherally that all of his terrestrial sons were glancing over, eager to know who the caller was.

Jeff quickly flipped open the small phone, and saw the caller was his middle son, John, who was serving his duty up on International Rescue’s space station. As the cell phone’s song continued, he paused briefly, thinking about his handsome son. John was home only a few months out of the year, because he served his duty aboard Thunderbird 5. Not that either one would complain. They both knew the whole Tracy family had to make sacrifices so International Rescue could function. Even though they did not mind too much, since it meant saving lives, sometimes selfishly, Jeff wished they could live the life of billionaires, as they pretended. 

Mentally shaking himself, he said, “Hey, John.” Immediately, he heard his son’s voice, he sounded amused.

“Hello, Father. Just wanted to check in with all of you. Tried to contact you in the control room, but obviously you weren’t in there. Just thought you might want to know that this lull looks to be around for a while. Nothing goin’ on.” Jeff nodded and smiled.

“Thanks John. Guess it must be kinda boring up there right now.” 

“It’s not too bad, dad. My book is keeping me busy right now. I’m just choosing some photos the telescope Brains installed up here took the other day. I’ll send some down to you later. They’re fantastic.” Jeff attempted to smother the smile that was trying to break free. Of his sons, only John and Alan had shown any inclination of sharing his love of space, though by necessity, Gordon was a pilot of THUNDERBIRD 3. Scott came close with his love of flying jets the fastest and wildest ways he could. However, none of the brothers would ever, tell another of their brothers they were not interested in what the other one was doing. Scott especially made sure he knew the interests of each of his brothers and took active interests in them.

“Thanks, son. I know the others will want to see the images as soon as possible. Anything else we need to know?” Both of them would have liked to talk for hours, but they all knew that John needed to constantly monitor the radio waves Thunderbird 5 picked up for potential rescues. Besides, communications with base needed to be kept strictly for business purposes. Jeff sighed internally. This was one of the problems with a secret family rescue organization. But the rewards far outweighed the problems, most of the time.

“No, Dad. Everything’s fine for now. See you later.”

“Good-bye, son.” John signed off, and Jeff snapped the phone cover down with more force then necessary. Scott glanced at him, then walked over and laid a hand on his father’s shoulder. He gave him a slight squeeze, nothing more. In this family of all men, one gesture was usually all it took. They had been through the fire together and knew each other better then most families did. They all knew, and they all understood. And they all wanted to continue, despite the bad times.

Jeff Tracy cleared his throat and nodded. Scott walked off and started a low conversation with Virgil.

Just another day in the life of the Tracys. So they thought.

***

Across the ocean, in the small town of Maryville, Tennessee, two young people were parked at the overlook above the town. Jason and Meredith had been “going out” for six months and both felt that they were finally in a relationship that was going somewhere. This was their favorite spot, because of its secluded location. In between kisses, Jason asked Meredith if she would be willing to wait until he finished college before marrying him.

“I just don’t want to make the mistake my dad did and have to constantly worry if the plant will take my job or not. I want to be able to provide for you and our future children.”

Meredith was about to answer him when they heard two muffled thuds. Suddenly, their world was turned upside down. Jason’s head hit the steering wheel while Meredith hit the dashboard. Both were knocked instantly unconscious.

 

**Two hours later**

“Calling International Rescue! Calling International Rescue!” John raced to the control board and switched on the microphone.

“International Rescue, what is the nature of the situation?”

“I’m the mayor of Maryville, Tennessee, and we have two of our young people trapped halfway up a cliff which overlooks the town. There was an overlook up there, and they seemed to have parked up there. For some reason we still don’t know, the cliff just crumbled and sent them straight down. Luckily, a tree stopped them halfway down, but it looks like it will give way at any time. There has been no contact with the two victims. Can you help us? None of our rescue equipment can get near the area.” John let a brief grin escape. Here was a supposed “hick” mayor who had just given out his information in the most orderly manner ever. John was very impressed: no screaming, no wailing, and no hyperventilating.

“Sir, International Rescue can help you. If you will stand by, I will contact base and let them know the situation.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you! Thank you!”

“Thunderbird 5 to Base. Thunderbird 5 to Base.”

***

Back on their tropical island hideaway, Jeff was seated behind his desk in his office while Alan, the youngest Tracy, was watching a small TV from the sofa in the corner. Jeff was so glad to have his whole family together for the summer, as Alan was at school for most of the year. The rest of the family was spread out at different jobs around the island. Jeff was about to go join his youngest when a small beep echoed through the room. Jeff and Alan’s eyes instantly focused on the plasma screen on the desk. A quick push of a button brought John’s face onscreen.

“Go ahead, John.”

“Dad, the mayor of Maryville, Tennessee just called and requested our help.”

Jeff leaned over and pushed another button on the desk. This was the klaxon, which could be heard in every corner of the house and let everyone know at once that International Rescue was again needed. While the three Tracys waited, John filled them in on the details. Thundering footsteps precluded the rest of the people Jeff Tracy called family.

Scott was the first one through the doorway. Not giving him a second to slow, Jeff said, “Scott, set out in Thunderbird 1. John will brief you on the way.”

“F.A.B.” As the rest moved to give him space, Scott hurried over to the wall behind the desk. Here was a huge picture showing each of the boys and Jeff in front of the house. Suddenly, the picture began to fade and six portraits took its place, Jeff and his sons in their IR uniforms. Scott’s portrait swished to the side, revealing a platform. Stepping onto the platform, the portrait slid back into place and the platform dropped. Scott gripped the handrails tightly as he felt the platform’s freefall begin to slow. When it came to a stop, he got out and ran to his ship, a large silver ship with the words “THUNDERBIRD 1” written vertically down it. Scott moved quickly to the pilot’s chair, and started the preflight checks. Scott quickly changed into his off-white uniform with the blue piping. He was glad they had decided against implementing the bright blue uniforms with the sashes and the hats. Besides being less practical, he had felt the bright blue uniforms would be the same as having a sign on the back saying “Shoot me, I’m International Rescue.” Walking back to the pilot seat, he buckled the safety belts and saw that the preflight check had showed everything was normal.

Flicking a switch, he asked, “Thunderbird 1 to base, do I have clearance to launch?”

His father’s voice came over the speakers, “F. A. B.” Scott pushed both of the levers forward and smiled briefly as he heard the engines power up. With a roar, the great ship raced upward through the swimming pool, which innocently hid the fastest jet the world had ever known.

Scott leveled her off horizontally and checked his instruments. John had sent enough info into the computer to tell him where to head. He pointed his plane towards the California coast and pushed the speed up to 7,500 mph. The radio crackled to life.

“Thunderbird 5 to Thunderbird 1.”

“Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 5, go ahead John.”

***

The bushes moved ever so slightly as if a wind had rustled them. The firemen and police, who were standing around waiting for the famed International Rescue to show up, didn’t notice. If they had, at least one would have wondered, since there was no wind.

***

“Thunderbird 2 to Thunderbird 1. Scott, do you read me?”

“Reading you strength 5, Virg. John brief you on the situation?”

“Yeah. I’m 25 minutes from danger zone.”

“F.A.B. I’m landing now.”

Scott landed his plane as close to the cliff as he felt was safe. He didn’t want his VTOL rockets to cause the car to move anymore. As he stepped out, he saw a few people hurrying to greet him. He began unloading the Mobile Control unit.

“International Rescue? I am the mayor of Maryville. We are so grateful you have come.”

“Well, it’s our job, to give help where it is needed. My name is Scott, and I have some buddies right behind me. I need some place big for them to land.”

“They can land in my field mister. Right over there. It’s close by. I’m Mr. Robertson, Jason’s dad.”

“The young man trapped up there? Right. Thanks. That helps a lot. Could some of you help me set up my Mobile Control unit?” Within minutes, it was ready.

“Mobile Control calling Thunderbird 2.”

“Go ahead Mobile Control.”

“Virg, I have your landing coordinates. Land quickly, then get over here. We need to talk about how to affect this rescue.” Alan glanced at Gordon. That did not sound good.

Thunderbird 2 landed and began raising itself so that the pod door could lower. Scott already had the police chief assign men to guard both vehicles because the Tracys knew from experience that there were several evil people-the Hood being the first to come to mind-that wanted nothing so much as the Thunderbird craft and International Rescue’s secrets. Virgil, Alan, and Gordon ran over to where Scott was seated.

“Alright, here’s the situation. Two teenagers, Jason Robertson and Meredith Baker, are trapped in that car.” Scott pointed above them to where a blue car swayed slightly in the branches of a tree. “The Police Chief tells me that they believe the car was parked on the overhang above,” he pointed still higher, “and it seems the area where the car was parked crumbled.”

Gordon’s attention was held by the still crumbling cliff face. “Why did the overlook collapse now? Did they have any reason to believe that it was unstable?” Scott shook his head.

“I don’t know, and right now that’s not our concern. Out concern is getting those two people out of the car and to safety.”

Alan spoke up, “Scott, how are we going to get to the people?” Scott smiled at him.

“We’re going to winch down one of us to the car. They will ascertain the stability of the car and the shape the passengers are in. Then we will use the winch to lift them up one at a time. Any questions?” Virgil nodded.

“Who’s the lucky one?” Scott winked.

“Well, since we need someone to operate Thunderbird 2 and keep her steady while they are being winched down, you’re out. You’re the best pilot of her, and we will need your expertise. I’m out because I have to man Mobile Control. Gordon’s out because he has the greatest experience with winch control. I guess that leaves…”

“Me! It leaves me,” Alan fumed. “I knew it. I’m the smallest and weigh the least. It had to be me!”

Gordon winked and said, “’Sides, these two are too **_old_**. They wouldn’t be able to do it.” Scott and Virgil rolled their eyes. The “old” jokes were getting… well…old. As everyone moved to his assigned positions, Scott grabbed Alan’s arm.

Lowering his voice he said, “Be careful Al, ok? This is tricky, and…well we sure wouldn’t want to lose you. Who else would we torment?” Alan gave Scott a warm grin.

“I’ll be careful. After all, who else do you have besides Gordon to crack old jokes at you?" Scott sighed as Alan walked toward Thunderbird 2 to get into his harness. It was so hard as field leader to send your own brothers into harm’s way. But as he had said, this was their job. What was that line… “with great power, comes great responsibility.”


	3. The Rescue and the Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Guess I should have said something earlier but wasn't sure what to do. It's been a long time since I wrote this, so I didn't feel comfortable at first. Now that I've finally got the hang of this new upload interface...I think, let me give you a little background on this story.
> 
> I started this early in my college career. I had just discovered fanfiction (I'd written it and dreamed it up before but didn't know others did or that they wanted to read it!) and had also seen the new Thunderbirds movie. While I could write an essay on my feeling on that subject, lets just say I was disappointed in the plot but thought the people and the updates were awesome. This story was birthed from that. This is a sequel to the movie, though I don't think it's incredibly necessary to have seen it. This is also based on the TV show as I'm a huge fan of it.   
> Anyway, just thought I'd give a bit of context. Hope you all enjoy!

Virgil activated his VOTL rockets and lifted off. The large, green ship lifted off and quickly moved over the small blue car. Virgil made sure he was much higher then he should be, then activated the down thrusters in short bursts. The car and tree started to sway.

“Virg! Stop!” Reflexes born of constant training hours and the trust in a brother born of years together helped Virgil shut off the thrusters just before the rescue turned into a retrieval operation. Virgil wiped sweat from his forehead and then rubbed his sweaty palms on his uniform. He had almost blown it. A crackle from the radio signaled Scott’s call.

“Hey Virg. It’s ok. The tree held. Thank God your reflexes are so quick. You ok?” Virgil ruefully shook his head. Sometimes he thought Scott knew him better then he knew himself. Of course, the reverse was also true. He probably knew Scott better then Scott knew himself.

“Fine, Scott. Just a little shook. If you ha…” Scott sent him a look.

“There is no reason to feel like that, Virg. Now. Lets rescue some people. You are at a good height, and I think that Alan can get to the car without worrying about too many trees or their branches. Better send him down with some cutters though. He probably will have to clear some stuff out of his way.”

“F.A.B.”

Alan triple checked the last hook and sent Gordon a quick thumbs up signal. Gordon nodded, then flipped a switch. Alan leaned over to look down at the ground. Despite Virgil’s good piloting, they were still much higher up then he would have liked. His specialty was water he did not like heights. That was especially funny, since the plan had been all along that he would go into the space program after he graduated from school. Then, Gordon and he would trade places on the THUNDERBIRDS, since Gordon was going into the WASPS next year. But for now, he was still a kid. However, ever since the huge incident with the Hood, both his father and his brothers had been giving him more responsibility. Alan was reveling in it. So, yes he would kid Scott about not wanting to go, but in reality, he would do this and more. It felt so good to be trusted by his hero brothers. He looked over to his closest brother and nodded. Then he stepped out into thin air.

Within 30 minutes, Alan was beside the car. He cautiously opened the driver’s side door. The boy, Jason, was slumped over the steering wheel. Alan did not like the angle of his neck and radioed Gordon.

“Ok, Al. I’ll send down the neck brace along with the VLS (visual life signs) and the back board.”

“F.A.B.” Alan turned his attention back to the young man. _Man, he is only a few years older then me. Probably Gordon or John’s age. I sure hope he doesn’t die. He still has so much life to live._

A sound made Alan turn and see the orange backboard. He put the neck brace on Jason carefully, and then began the problem of getting him out without hurting him further. A groan caused him to raise his head too quickly and it made contact with the top of the doorway. Rubbing it ruefully, he glanced at the young woman, who was now blinking at him groggily.

“How are you, Miss?” She winced as her hand encountered the large bruise on her forehead.

“Aside from a headache as big as Mt. Everest, I’m doing pretty well. Jason! Is he ok?” Alan shook his head.

“He’s not doing too good. If I come around and help you out of the car, could you lie on the backboard and let my bro…buddy winch you up? That would allow me more room the get him out.” Meredith nodded. Alan quickly radioed Gordon and Scott and filled them in on the change of plans. Soon, Meredith was being lifted to safety, and Alan was once again stuck with the problem of moving Jason, when he should not be moved. His wristwatch suddenly beeped, and Scott’s face appeared in the face.

“Alan, a Mr. Thompson is coming up to assist you. He is a trained medic, and we all agree you will need help moving Jason since he is unresponsive. Gordon will let down the line to him and winch him up to you position when he gets to the tree. Sound good to you?” Alan sighed with relief.

“F.A.B.”

Gordon radioed Alan and told him Thompson was in position. Alan was soon shaking hands with a man roughly his father’s age. He was worried the medic would comment on how young he was, but Thompson was too worried to notice that the International Rescue operative was only thirteen years old. Quickly, but with infinite care, the two rescuers moved Jason to the backboard. As they strapped him in, they both let out a breath they hadn’t known they were holding. Alan hurriedly hooked the young man to the VLS and was relieved to hear the steady beeping. Jason was not in the greatest shape, but he was holding his own.

Gordon winched the young man up and quickly moved him on a hovercot to Thunderbird 2’s sickbay. He then hurried back to the winch controls. He sent the winch down, while radioing Alan. Mr. Thompson was quickly winched up and shown to the sickbay where he got to work on Jason.

Gordon radioed Alan to get him ready for the line. Suddenly, a wind shear rocked the huge ship. Virgil fought the controls and finally, the wind slackened. The radio crackled to life and Gordon relayed his bad news to his older brother.

“The line’s snagged in a tree 5 meters away from Alan. I’m going to have to climb down the line and untangle it.”

“Gordon! That’s too dangerous! There has to be another way.” Gordon shook his head.

“Just keep her steady, bro.”

All of the Tracys could hear the interchange. Jeff’s face went a shade whiter and he rested his head on his arms. John stood stock-still. Scott gripped the control panel, while Alan stared helplessly up at the opening where his brother was making a hard decision. One slip and a Tracy could die.

Virgil swallowed the goose egg sized lump in his throat, and slowly nodded. Gordon got a safety line and attached it to the harness he was already wearing. He placed the two magnets on either side of the hold, and then checked to make sure they were secure. When he was certain, he stepped out into the air. The line held. Exhaling the breath he was nervously holding in, he flicked the switch on the control box on the harness and was slowly lowered to the twisted line.

Alan could see his brother moving slowly to the cable. He saw Gordon land near it and stop the line. Alan radioed Mobile Control.

“Scott, Gordon’s reached the winch line and… **yes** , he’s got it untangled. He’s taking it with him and will soon send it down to me…Scott? Are you there? Do you copy? **_Scott, answer me!_** ”

**Thirty minutes earlier.**

“Boy, you guys sure do a great work. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. My son probably wouldn’t have made it. By the time the police and volunteer fire department had got to them…” Scott smiled at the appreciative father.

“No problem sir. I’m just glad our operative found them alive.” Scott nodded to a man who had come up next to Mr. Robertson. The rather large man was wearing dark clothing and was of Oriental decent. Robertson shook the man’s hand.

“Mr. Lung, good to see you. Scott, this is Mr. Lung. He moved here only two weeks ago, but he has already become a part of the community. He helped fix the sewer problem we’ve had since the line was put in and is helping all of us paint the courthouse.” Scott smiled at the man while a shiver ran up his spine. As unobtrusively as possible, he turned on the Mobile Control’s recording device. He didn’t care what Robertson said. Mr. Lung was one scary man.

Mr. Lung bowed to Scott and said “Thank you for saving those two young people. They are our future. Thank you.” Scott nodded and they turned to watch Jason being lifted up. Suddenly, Mr. Robertson dropped to the ground. Scott rushed over to him and checked his pulse. Everything was fine; it was almost as if he had just fallen asleep. With this thought, Scott jumped to his feet, while turning around at the same time. There stood Mr. Lung with a syringe in one hand and a gun in the other, pointed straight at Scott’s heart.

“Scott, there is no reason for this to end in violence. Just drop your laser pistol and put your hands on your head. You are going on a little journey.” Scott’s deep blue eyes turned almost grey with the steely glare he shot at the man.

“Alright.” Slowly he let the gun drop, and then put his hands on his head. He knew no one would notice. Everyone was about 10 meters away, watching the rescue. Lung moved slowly over to him, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. Just as he was about to snap the first one on Scott’s wrist, Scott’s leg shot out and tripped him. Soon they were wrestling, each one giving the other some good punches. Abruptly, Scott stiffened, and then went limp. Lung looked up at one of his operatives. He nodded, holding up an identical syringe to the one used on Robertson.

Lung kicked Scott off him. The master had said the Thunderbird men would be difficult. He was glad he had listened and brought several men with him. The operative spoke softly to him in their native Malaysian.

_“Is this the one the master wanted?”_

_“Yes. The leader, the one we would find behind the control box. See, the blue edges on his uniform. Yes, this is he.”_

_“Should we not also bring the box, sir?”_ Lung held up his hand for silence. Over the speakers of the control box he could hear the one his master hated the most; “Scott? Are you there? Do you copy? **_Scott, answer me!_** ”

_“No, they are calling him. They will soon investigate. Call the men. We must hurry from this place.”_ The operative bowed and hurried off the gather the men. Lung grabbed one of the limp arms of his prisoner and started to lift him up. However, Scott’s limp body proved heavier then he had expected and he lost his hold on the body. As the limp form fell to the ground, Lung instinctively reached out and tried to grab one of his arms. The sound of tearing fabric was accompanied with a slight thud, as Scott’s body hit the ground hard. Cursing silently, the man let go of the scrap of cloth that had been left in his hand and picked up the unconscious Scott. He had to move from this place. Someone would soon come and investigate.


	4. The Shanghaiing of Scott

As soon as Alan was inside the ship, Virgil hurriedly shot Thunderbird 2 up. He quickly landed and helped unload Jason and Meredith, who had lost consciousness. When they were loaded into the ambulances, he ran with Gordon to Mobile Control; Alan had headed there as soon as Thunderbird 2 had landed. Both Virgil and Gordon had heard Alan screaming for Scott to answer, and both had heard the silence that had followed. When they reached Mobile Control, they were stunned by what they saw. Alan was holding onto a scrap of cloth and staring at nothing while one of the fireman and a policeman were hovering around a man lying on the ground.

Virgil walked up to the man they all knew as the mayor and asked, “What’s happened? Where’s Scott?” The mayor looked at him sadly.

“We don’t know. We were all standing over there watching the rescue, when we heard this young man,” pointing to Alan, “screaming for Scott. We hurried to see what was going on. When we got here, we found Tad…uh Mr. Robertson where he is now and no sign of your friend or Mr. Lung, who was with them.” Virgil nodded, trying not to show how worried he was. The fireman stood up and approached the mayor.

“Mr. Dixon, Tad’s been drugged. We found a mark on his arm made by a syringe, and besides, he ain’t asleep, just unresponsive.” Eyeing Virgil, he said, “We have to know a lot about drugs. Too many of our young people are into them.” Virgil nodded; he was so numb that he could not think of anything to say. He glanced over at Alan, and then slowly made his way over to him. Placing one artistic hand on his kid brother’s shoulder, he knelt next to him.

“How’re you holding up Al?” Alan didn’t answer but passed him the piece of cloth. Virgil glanced at it, and then took a closer look. It was from his brother’s sleeve. And right in the middle was a small pinprick of blood. _They must have drugged him too; though by the looks of the ground, I’d say they fought first._ Unexpectedly, he felt someone tap his shoulder. Spinning swiftly around, he found Gordon standing there with the saddest look Virgil had ever seen.

“What?” Gordon shook his head and grabbed his arm. He led him over to the Mobile Control and pushed a button. Suddenly, voices could be heard.

“Thank you for saving those two young people. They are our future. Thank you.” One of the rescue men looked around before his eyes fell on the control unit.

“That’s Mr. Lung’s voice on the recording. Hope you guys can find out what’s happened to your operative and him. We’re moving Tad now, catch you later.” None of the THUNDERBIRDS operatives heard him; their whole focus was on the recording.

Virgil would have hugged Scott if he were here. He had turned on the recorder. Virgil didn’t understand why, but he hoped there would be a clue in the dialogue telling them what had happened. Then he tensed as he heard the next line.

“Scott, there is no reason for this to end in violence. Just drop your laser pistol and put your hands on your head. You are going on a little journey.” Virgil was listening very hard now. This Mr. Lung was obviously Asian, and if he was, he was most likely working for only one person…

_“Alright.”_ Sounds of a scuffle ensued, then silence. Virgil was about to walk away when Gordon held him back.

“Wait.” Then he heard it. Someone was speaking in a foreign language. It sounded like the languages he heard when they were rescuing people in Japan or China, but he did not think it was either of those languages.

_“Scott? Are you there? Do you copy? **Scott, answer me!** ”_ A few more words in the unknown language, then there were the sounds of someone walking away, someone laden down with something. Virgil couldn’t help himself. He slammed his fist down on the button to stop the recording and walked off. Gordon just stood there gaping. Virgil never let anyone see him angry or flustered. He was the cool headed one of the bunch. However, Gordon couldn’t fault him for the outburst. Virg and Scott were closer then any of the other brothers; they often seemed to act as one on rescues. For one to lose the other was unthinkable.

***

Scott’s lifeless body was thrown in the back of “Mr. Lung’s” black sedan. With a squeal of tires, the sedan zoomed away from the rescue scene out onto the highway. Gheat’s lips moved in such a way that one could call it a smile, though most wouldn’t as it radiated pure evil. He would be paid well for this…service. His master wanted the field leader of the Thunderbirds and Gheat was bringing him. His operative was sitting in the back seat with the IR leader, checking to make sure he was alive. He gave a quick nod. Thirty minutes later, Gheat parked the sedan next to a small plane, which they were hiding on an abandoned airstrip. The rest of his team were already prepping the plane and hiding the vehicles they had stolen for this operation.

Gheat pulled the still drugged Scott from the backseat and carried him over to the plane. In the main hold, a medical gurney was set up. Scott was unceremoniously dumped on it and strapped in. Gheat was about to hook an IV onto his arm when he noticed it. Muttering harsh obscenities at his men and himself, he tore the watch from Scott’s arm and stomped outside the plane.

_“Guard him,”_ he barked to the nearest man. He quickly disappeared inside. Gheat turned on the rest of his men.

“Jin-non, take this. Drive out to the large lake a few miles back and drop it into the water. But before you do, push this button. **Not now, you fool!** Do this and then take this money and fly back to base. We will be waiting for you.” The man nodded and hurried to do his leader’s bidding. Jin-non had served with Gheat on many of his…jobs for their master, and they trusted each other, at least as much as two men in their situation in life can trust.

Gheat marched back into the plane, only to find their prisoner slowly gaining consciousness. Gheat sent the guard to copilot the plane and he smiled as the plane lifted off. The rest of his men would use different commercial airlines and arrive back at base within the week. Their master knew how to move without being seen and had taught this crack team of cutthroats a good bit of his tricks. Gheat’s focus was caught by the groan issuing from the man lying beside him.

Scott slowly blinked his eyes that many women had called “killer blue eyes,” though he and his family did wonder if he would be as handsome if his father were not a billionaire. His eyes were having problems focusing at the moment, and his head ached terribly. While still trying to get his uncooperative eyes to focus, he tried with his other senses to figure out where he was. The sound of an engine, a plane engine that he was not piloting, peaked his interests. _What am I doing in a plane, but not piloting it?_ His mind, which was sluggishly trying to start up again, reminded him that he had been at a rescue.This confused him further. _If I was on a rescue, then who’s driving Thunderbird 1? And why can’t I seem to move anything below my neck? Am I injured? No. That did not seem right._

He blinked. Yes, he had seen something move. Suddenly, his world came into brilliant focus, and just as quickly, his heart sank. There was Mr. Lung, who he had fought with, when the world went dark. This was definitely not Thunderbird 1, so he must be a prisoner. Slowly turning his head fully to the man next to him, Scott opened his mouth and tried to speak. No word would come out.

“I imagine your mouth feels a little dry right now. That is to be expected since we had to drug you. Now, Scott, you are on a plane. We are taking you to our…employer who is very anxious to see you. However, to make sure you don’t give us any more trouble, I’m afraid I’ll going to have to drug you again. Just hold still, Mr. Tracy.” Scott tried to not show the shudder that went through his body. This man knew who he was. He knew that IR was in fact the Tracy family. Only a few people were privileged with that info, and only one knew it that would do this. As the man inserted the IV needle into his skin, Scott tried to speak again. This time, as he felt his mind slip into the darkness, he forced the word out.

“Hhhhoooooodddd.”


	5. Crushed Hopes and Despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking back on this now, I would hide the fate of the watch from the reader until the reveal in this episode so you the reader experienced it with the Tracy brothers. I'm really starting to see how much I have grown as an author. 
> 
> It might drive me crazy, but it's kinda interesting to see this laid out in front of me.

John jumped up from his chair so fast that it was sent skittering across the room. Gordon had been informing him of Scott’s disappearance when a loud beep echoed through the space station. John ran over to a small control panel. This was the tracking station for the watches worn by all the members of International Rescue. John frantically pushed two buttons, then let out a shout of thankfulness. Scott’s signal was coming in clearly. John let out a quick prayer of thanks that his brother had been able to turn the tracking signal on. Running back over to the main control board, he hailed his younger brother.

“Gordon, I have Scott’s watch signal on the tracking screen. It’s at position S290-4r5.”

“F.A.B. John! Thank God! Virgil is really starting to scare me.”

“Well, he is the closest to Scott.” Gordon nodded. As he signed off, Gordon glanced over at his older brother. He was hoping with all his might that they would find Scott soon. He did not want to see his artistic brother have a nervous breakdown.

“Virg. John got Scott’s tracking signal and gave me its current coordinates. The three of us can go in Thunderbird 1; it’ll be faster. You will need to lock down Thunderbird 2; I’m sure the mayor won’t begrudge a few of the police officers watching it for a bit longer.” Virgil nodded then suddenly threw his arms around his brother. Gordon was deeply shocked.

“Thanks Gordo. I guess…I must be acting like an idiot. It’s just…” Gordon just shook his head.

“Don’t apologize.” Virgil gave him a warm smile, then hurried to lock down his bird and inform the mayor of the extended need of his officers. Within minutes, the sleek jet had risen and was shooting off towards the small electronic signal that represented hope to these young men.

***

John looked at the button and sighed. He had been putting this particular action off as long as he could, but it could no longer be helped. Their father had to know that one of his sons was missing. He had not been contacted since John had accidentally let him hear the interchange between Gordon and Virgil. He had assured Dad that he was ok right before Alan’s shout sent their attention scurrying to Scott. Now it was time. He hated this. He hated it more then anything, but within a few minutes Thunderbird 1 would be at Scott’s signal; so there was nothing to worry about, right? John wished he could convince himself of this. Something told him this was far from over.

“Thunderbird 5 to Base”

“Go ahead John.”

“Father…uhmmm” Jeff knew instantly that something was wrong. His middle son, though quiet, had the ability to tell quickly and concisely the facts. When John paused or was at a loss for words, Jeff knew he was about to hear something he did not want to.

“What is it John? Just tell me.” John swallowed. Dad was trying to help him, but it was useless. Nothing could make this easier.

“Dad, we fear that Scott’s been…taken. Uhmmmm…we have a recording that sounds like he was struggling, then there is silence. Virgil, Gordon, and Alan ran to Mobile Control, but he was gone. There is good news though. We are tracking his signal, and they should be there any minute now.” Jeff couldn’t move or speak. He couldn’t even tell John off for not contacting him sooner.

“I’m…sorry Dad that I didn’t contact you sooner, but we …hoped we would find him quickly. I’m sorry.”

Jeff sighed then looked up.

“No John. You don’t need to apologize. You were right. You would have wasted time if you had contacted me before. Time that Scott might need.” Jeff fixed his middle son with steely eyes. “Keep me informed though.”

“F.A.B. I’ll leave the link open Dad. Is that ok with you?” Jeff nodded. He looked down at his paper littered desk and let one lone tear caress his cheek. His son, his eldest son. _God, may he be safe._ A slight noise caused his head to snap up. There stood Brains, the scientist who had become a good friend since the beginning of International Rescue.

“M-Mr. Tracy, w-what is i-it?” Jeff got up from his desk; his head slumped to his chest. Still not answering, he walked over to the opposite wall. The wall that was one huge picture and yet more then that, a picture of himself and the five people he loved best in the entire world. His sons. There they were, wearing jeans and tees, standing proud and strong.

“M-M-Mr. Tracy?” Jeff turned to the young genius. Brains had been with them since International Rescue’s infancy. Without his phenomenal mind, IR would have quite literally never gotten off the ground.

“Brains, John just contacted me. Scott…well…Scott’s missing. It looks like he might have been kidnapped. John is tracking the signal from his watch,” Brains gave an audible sigh of relief, “And the boys are heading towards it. I just…hate feeling helpless.”

“I-I know M-Mr. Tr-racy. But your b-b-sons know what t-t-to do.” Jeff walked over to the young scientist and placed one hand on his thin shoulder. 

“You’re right Brains. As always.”

***

Virgil landed the sleek jet as close to origin of the signal as he could. When the three Tracy brothers had disembarked, Virgil set Thunderbird 1 in lockdown mode. No one would be able to get in except him or Jeff. Gordon turned on his personal survivor tracker or PST and watched as the blue dot winked innocently.

“I’ve got him, Virg.”

“Good. Let’s go. And keep an eye out. The person or persons who took him could still be around.” Alan fell into step between his older brothers. He hoped they would be able to find Scott aliv…well. He winced slightly when he thought that and Gordon noticed.

“You ok?” he whispered. Alan nodded. Right now, they needed to concentrate on Scott. He would be fine when they found him, not before.

* * *

Jin-non pressed his body closer to the tree. He silently cursed the foul machine that would not start. Though his master had seen to it that all the men knew how to drive a car, he had not seen fit to teach them what to do if something went wrong. The car had innocently run out of gas, but to Jin-non it appeared that the machine had ceased to function. He sighed. It would be a long walk to the airport and he did not know the language well enough to ask directions. Suddenly, he heard a slight crunch near him. _Here they are,_ he thought. He would have to wait until International Rescue was gone before setting out. He only hoped they would not find him.

Alan noticed the dot was very near to them.

“It looks like it’s just up ahead.” As he said this, he ran forward, ignoring the frantic cries from his two brothers. Unexpectedly, he came to an abrupt stop. He looked stupidly down at his boots that were now half submerged in the mud by a huge lake!

Virgil came up behind him, trying desperately to blink away the tears that were running down his cheeks. Gordon checked his tracker, and then checked it again. There was no mistake. The signal was coming from just a few feet from them, under the water. Without a thought, Gordon started stripping his uniform off. Virgil started to do the same. As he did so, he turned to Alan.

“You stay here and keep a lookout. We’ll try to be as quick as we can.” Alan nodded. No one wanted to say what was foremost on their minds; was Scott down there…dead?

Quickly and effortlessly, both Tracy boys waded in and swam out a ways. Gordon turned back to Alan.

Knowing what his brothers wanted, he called out, “Just a couple feet further, that’s right. Now, about five strokes to your right. There! Your right over it.” Both Virgil and Gordon disappeared from sight.

Jin-non saw everything from his hiding place. International Rescue had found the watch, almost with no effort at all. He had failed. Surely, with all their equipment, they would soon spot him too. Well, not if he could help it. He slid unobtrusively from his hiding spot and silently slinked over to the young man, the one his master hated the most, standing by the lake. He would take at least one of them out before running. Then his master would be proud. He would kill the hated one. If he had stopped to think, he would have realized that it was the last thing his master wanted done.

Gordon pulled effortlessly away from his older brother. This was his element. He might not be able to compete with his older brothers in some areas, but they did not have a prayer when it came to swimming. He scanned the bottom of the lake. Soon he would have to go up for air. If they could not find the watch…or Scott soon, then Virgil and himself would have to have Alan get the underwater gear from Thunderbird 2. Suddenly, a bright light blinded him momentarily. Then he saw it, Scott’s watch, two feet away. Lungs bursting, he made a grab for it and missed. A second grab was successful and he quickly headed for the surface.

Alan saw the signal move slightly, then move up to the surface. One of his brothers must have found Scott’s watch. In another part of his brain, Alan hoped that the watch was all they had found. Though it would make finding Scott almost impossible, the hope of him being alive was better then the alternative. First Virgil’s then Gordon’s heads broke the still surface of the water. Alan waved to them and they began to swim towards him. Abruptly, Virgil stopped and began shouting at Alan. Alan couldn’t understand what he was saying, but just then, a small _snap_ behind him warned him of the presence of another human being a second before it knocked him down to the ground. Hands wrapped instantly around his throat. The youngest Tracy struggled and began to kick out at the man who was on top of him. It was a futile effort. Just as white spots began appearing before his eyes, the man suddenly slumped forward. Standing over him were two sopping wet figures. Gordon reached out a hand, and helped Alan up. Meanwhile, Virgil was bending over the prone figure of the man who had attacked his brother. A groan emitted from the man’s throat and Virgil quickly rose, grabbing his laser pistol off the ground at the same time.

Jin-non shook his head. Whatever had hit him, it felt like it packed the same force as a semi. Glancing around without moving his head, Jin-non saw two pair of off white clad legs. Then the world fell around him and he felt himself being pulled up to a standing position. Two pairs of hands grasped his upper arms while the IR operative with the green piping lifted Jin-non’s head, which was lolling around as if his neck had no strength left. The man spoke, but Jin-non could not understand what he said. Besides, he would not tell them anything. If his master found that he had told anything to the detestable International Rescue, Jin-non’s life was less then worthless. Letting his arms hang limp, the fingers of his left hand fumbled with a small pocket on the side of his pants. Slowly and carefully, he pulled out its contents. One cyanide pill.

Virgil sighed inwardly. They were not going to get anything from this unknown man. From his looks and the unknown language on the recording, Virgil would almost have bet he did not even understand English. With a flash of brilliance, he hailed John.

“Virgil to Thunderbird 5.”

“Go ahead Virg.”

“John, we found Scott’s watch at the bottom of a lake.” Hearing John’s quick intake of breath, Virgil hurried on.

“We didn’t find Scott, only his watch, with the tracking signal turned on. We also found, or rather Gordon was attacked by a man. He looks Asian and I don’t think he knows English. Could you try to talk to him, or at least get a idea of language he does speak?”

“Sure Virg. Turn your watch so I can see him. I’m turning the recording device on now.” John began asking him the same question in many different languages.

“ _Who are you?”_ Each time the man showed no sign of comprehension. John was about to give up when the man stiffened, then threw off both Gordon and Alan’s holds. Before any of them could react, he thrust a pill into his mouth and smiled.

_“And so I deprive you, International Rescue, of my knowledge. You will never find your comrade until it is too late. Then you will wish he was dead. Live with that. My master, know what Jin-non has done for yo…”_ Horrified, the Tracys could only watch as the man stiffened unnaturally, and then slumped to the ground. Alan, since he was the closest, bent down and felt for a pulse. There was none. The unknown man was dead, and with him, any hope of finding Scott.

After several horrible minutes, Virgil stirred first.

“We have to get this body to the police, it’s their job to discover all they can about this…suicide. Then…I’ll call Dad.” The younger Tracys exchanged glances. They knew that was going to be a hard conversation. Virgil unlocked Thunderbird 1 while Gordon and Alan carried the dead man up and into the ship. Within minutes, the IR members were giving their accounts of the death to the police. After pledging to send all their information to Thunderbird 5, the police and firemen quit the scene. While Gordon and Alan stored Mobile Control in Thunderbird 1, Virgil sat in his pilot chair in Thunderbird 2. Flipping the radio switch, he got John to patch him thorough to Base. Drawing a deep, fortifying breath, Virgil addressed his father.

“Father…”

“Virgil, how are all of you doing? Do you have news of Scott?” Virgil chocked on his words. He could not do this. He could not tell his father. Hanging his head, he spent several seconds studying his hands.

“Son?” He looked into his father’s haunted eyes.

“I’m sorry, Father.”


	6. The Games Have Begun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief warning: the next few chapters will be...less then pleasant for Scott and certain other people. It never gets purposefully graphic, but you do know what is happening to them.

Gheat debarked from the small airplane and looked around. There, standing by the small metal storage unit for the plane, was his master, his shaved head gleaming in the steamy Malaysian sunlight. Bowing to his master, Gheat waited for the order to rise. When given it, he waited for leave to speak.

_“What do you have for me?”_ Gheat shivered. His master was not one to suffer fools or failures. Luckily, he was neither.

_“I have the one you wished, my master. He was not that difficult to capture. I disposed of his watch as you requested and turned the signal on too. He is drugged and has no idea where he is. Do you wish for me to bring him out?”_

_“Yes. Well done, Gheat. You will be greatly rewarded and have my lasting pleasure. Take him to the audience chamber and chain him to the furthest wall. I want him to awake in total confusion.”_

_“It shall be as you say.”_ Bowing low, Gheat went off to fulfill his master’s request.

Gheat carried the limp form of Scott Tracy into what could only be called a throne room. One of his master’s lesser slaves followed him over to the wall facing the door. Gheat deposited Scott’s body into the slave’s arms while he picked up one of the manacles hanging from the wall. Roughly, he shoved it over the limp hand and locked the manacle around his writs. He quickly repeated this and signaled the slave to lean Scott against the wall. Gheat expertly moved the chains so they gave the prisoner some freedom to sag but would cause maximum pain, too. As soon as the slave let go of him, Scott slumped forward. For one split second, it looked like the chains would not hold. Then with a metallic _clang_ and a painful jerk of the arms, his body stopped. For one moment, Scott’s eyes flew open, and a grunt of pain escaped his lips. Then his lids shuttered close, and he slumped against the chains.

The soft whisper of silk slippers on stone made Gheat spin around to face the noise. His master, the Hood, walked over to the young man hanging ingloriously from the wall. His eyes narrowed evilly as he studied the helpless figure. Swiftly, his foot shot out and hit the young man squarely in the chest. With a gasp and a groan, Scott’s eyes shot open. Blearily, he gazed at the shadowing figure in front of him. Suddenly, his eyes flew wide open. Gathering his strength, he planted his feet under him and pushed himself up. Standing erect, he glared at the evil man in front of him. Summoning up all the hate and loathing he felt for the man in front of him, Scott spat his name in his face.

“The Hood.” Bowing slightly, the evil man gazed triumphantly at the bound man. Here was the key to International Rescue. Since IR was made up of the Tracy family, they were very willing to protect their own. When one was in danger, the others focused all their attention on rescuing and helping that one member. The Thunderbirds would be crippled by their fear and sorrow over Scott’s disappearance. Pain. Ah, causing the Tracys pain was like balm to his restless soul. He hated them, hated them more then even he cared to admit. At every turn, they had frustrated his plans. But no longer. His plan was perfect. He would not fail.

Looking into Scott’s pain-filled but steely eyes, the Hood’s mouth cracked into what could only be called a grin. But grins were never made to look like that particular one. It sent shivers of fear down Scott’s spine. Before he could react, the Hood’s red, silk covered arm lashed out, hitting his head. Scott’s head smacked against the stone wall, causing his eyes to momentarily lose focus. Before the prisoner could regain any composer, the Hood struck. Karate chops to the chest, ribs, arms, and head were alternated with kicks to the knees to cut his legs out from under him. Each time that happened, Scott’s body would start to fall, only to be painfully jerked to a stop by the chains around his wrists. After several minutes of these attacks, the Hood stepped back and surveyed the damage. Scott hung limply, supported only by the manacles. Blood was running down from a cut on his forehead, and his breathing was horse and painful. The attacks had left him unconscious, and he would not be waking up anytime soon. The Hood allowed himself one genuine smile. The games had begun.

* * *

 

            A silent and heartbroken group landed on Tracy Island. Virgil, Alan and Gordon, who had flown Thunderbird 1 home, met again in the lounge. There, the entire family had gathered. Their father was sitting behind his desk; desperately trying to appear brave while the tear tracks down his face betrayed him. Onaha was holding twelve year old Tin-Tin, her and Kyrano’s daughter, while her father stood behind his “Mr. Tracy”, giving him the support he needed. Brains and his son Fermat were seated on the sofa in the corner. Fermat was hugging his father, who was fruitlessly trying to keep the tears at bay. Finally, John’s picture was lit up. However, no one could see his face. His head was in his hands, and all anyone could see was the back of his head and his heaving shoulders.

Alan went instantly to Tin-Tin, leaving her mother to comfort Gordon. Virgil stood just by the wall portrait and looked up at the figure of his brother. Virgil could not cry-he had no more tears left to cry. He could only stare stupidly at the picture of his missing brother. Virgil knew in his heart that Scott was not dead. If he was dead, no one would have removed his watch and disposed of it as they did. This thought scared him more than the thought of his missing brother. Only a few people knew the secret of the watches the Tracy men wore, and most were in this very room. There was only one person who knew the Tracy’s secret and would commit such a reprehensible deed: The Hood.  

Jeff’s eyes latched onto his second-oldest son. Slowly raising himself out of the chair, he moved over to him. Tenderly, he wrapped his arm around his stony son. Virgil flinched. He would not give into the tears that threatened. He had to be strong, for his family, for Scott. He would be… A sob ended all his thoughts, and he finally gave into the fears and griefs that haunted him.

Finally, his tears slowed and then stopped. Amazed, he looked around the room. Everyone had left. Only he and his father were still there. Marveling, he then noticed that he was somehow seated, with no knowledge of how he got there. Jeff glanced at him.

“Are you better now, son?”

“Yes Dad, thanks. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“Virgil, do not apologize. Now, tell me everything you know.” An hour and a half later, Jeff leaned back against the sofa. This had been planned. It had to have been, which meant that the crumbling overlook was no accident. Someone had deliberately plotted and carried out an attack against his son. There was only one person with the knowledge, cunning, and most importantly, the hatred to carry it out. Virgil caught his father’s eyes and nodded. He knew what Jeff was thinking.

The Hood.

***

The next day, a cloud hung over the tropical paradise of Tracy Island. After breakfast, every member of International Rescue, including John and Lady Penelope via tele screens gathered in the lounge. Gordon, Alan, and Virgil debriefed everyone on the rescue and the subsequent disappearance of Scott. When they had sat down, Lady Penelope raised her question.

Beautifully flicking a stray blond tress from her face, she queried, “Has anyone identified or translated the language the attackers were using?”

John answered her. “We have a recording of it, but I didn…haven’t had a chance to do anything with it.”

“Could you play it now?” The polished British accent had a slight hopeful tone in it. Everyone was praying for a clue to this mystery. Perhaps this was it. John pushed a button on Thunderbird 5’s control panel, and soon everyone could hear the recording from Mobile Control.

_“Thank you for saving those two young people. They are our future. Thank you.”_

Everyone tensed when they heard the next phrase.

_“Scott, there is no reason for this to end in violence. Just drop your laser pistol, and put your hands on your head. You are going on a little journey.”_ Tin-tin teared up when she heard the man threaten Scott’s life. Scott had always been there for her, like the older brother she never had…and now he was gone.

_“Alright.”_ No one breathed during the sounds of the struggle; then they heard someone speak again but this time in the unknown language. Before anyone could puzzle on how they could discover the origin of the language, Kyrano drew in a surprised breath. All the Tracys, Brains, Tin-Tin, Fermat, and Lady Penelope turned to look at him. His eyes grew wide; then he hastily signaled to John to stop the recording.

Turning to the large group of people gaping at him, he said, “I can tell you what they are saying. They are speaking a dialect from my country of Malaysia. I know the dialect quite well as it was the one spoken by the people in the district my family home was in. Please Mr. John, play the recording again.” John complied at once.

Kyrano began translating. “He says, ‘Is this the one the master wanted?’ Then that Mr. Lung answers, ‘Yes. The leader, the one we would find behind the control box. See, the blue edges. Yes, this is he.’ The other asks,‘Should we not also bring the box, sir?’’ Everyone heard Alan scream, “Scott? Are you there? Do you copy? **_Scott, answer me!_** ” Then Kyrano began translating again.

“Mr. Lung says, ‘No, they are calling him. They will soon investigate. Call the men. We must hurry from this place.’” Everyone remained silent long after the recording ended.

Alan was the first to voice the question foremost on everyone’s mind. “What would the Hood want with Scott? I mean, it would have been simpler for him to just kill Scott there on the scene. Why set up a rescue, then kidnap only one of us?” No one could voice an opinion. But everyone knew he was right. Jeff looked into the faces of his loved ones and saw confusion and fearful thoughtfulness, the same feelings he was experiencing. Then his gaze fell on his faithful retainer. Kyrano’s expression was fearful and troubled. As Jeff was studying him, Kyrano caught his eye. Knowing what his employer was about to ask, he unobtrusively shook his head no. He should not say what he feared to the whole group, they were already traumatized enough. There was only one reason to take Scott alive, to torture him, hold him for ransom, or possibly both.


	7. Tenderness in the Bowels of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott finds out just what might be in store for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try not to give anything away here but there is a new way of communicating in this chapter.  
> Previous chapters have contained different languages in italics, sound over radio in bold, and now we have...it's a secret! LOL.  
> But to explain, the new communication will be in bold. I know that has previously been used for radio talk, but the need for that is minor from here on. It is in bold because my editor found it difficult to figure out what was going on unless the letters stood out.  
> Hope you enjoy!

She heard the heavy footsteps heading for her cell. They were coming for her. Just the thought made her long to crawl into the corner and cower. But she would not. She would be strong. He had taken almost everything from her, but she wouldn’t give him her pride. Squaring her thin, scarred shoulders, she stood and waited for the guards to claim her for the daily…session. Shivering slightly in the humiliating, inadequate clothing she was forced to wear, she waited while the guards questioned the slaves who had come to get her. This was for their protection. Their master would be severely…displeased if she should disappear. A key scraped in the lock, and the heavy door swung open. While the slaves blocked the doorway, the guards advanced on her, baring a curious device. She stood stock-still and betrayed no emotion while one guard brought one part of the device around her waist. The metallic band snapped into place and locked. Then the same guard grabbed onto her wrists while the other thrust a manacle over it and locked it into place.  This was repeated with her other hand. Now she was ready. The two slaves grasped her upper arms and dragged her down the corridors. With every dwindling inch of freedom, the young girl became more and more anxious. By the time the group had reached the door to the throne room, she was struggling violently. A quick rap at the door brought her back to her senses. She would not show weakness to Him. It would only lead to worse things. The door was thrown open, and she was thrown in. A shadow passed over her prone figure, pausing briefly, as if to enjoy her discomfort. Before she could push herself up, the figure passed on, and the door slammed shut. The click of the lock echoed through the chamber, mixing with another sound. The girl laboriously got up, as it was difficult to push herself up with her hands shackled.

Glancing around, she immediately spotted the lifeless figure hanging from the wall. Though she had seen many things during her imprisonment here, still the sight shocked her. She fearfully checked all the corners and all the shadows. Though she thought He had passed her when she had been lying by the door, one learned quickly here not to trust anything. However, her examination was not as thorough as it would normally have been. The sounds she had heard before where coming from the man hanging limply and obviously, painfully from his shackles. It was his breathing that was echoing through the chamber, and it didn’t sound normal. Knowing how He worked, the first thing he had done was rough him up a bit and show him who’s boss. And His usual method was to bruise or break a couple ribs and let you suffer.

Slippers whispered softly over the rough stones until the girl stood near the unconscious figure. His ribs needed to be bound immediately; but it wasn’t as if she could just ask for supplies. She looked desperately around the room, looking for anything that could act as a bandage. Her hands strayed to her hair, and she started doing her nervous habit. She would grasp a patch of hair and give it a tight squeeze, then grab another handful and begin again. Suddenly, there it was. The solution was wrapped in her hair. The young woman quickly unwound the long silk scarf that was woven into her hair. Long cascades of brown hair with soft blond highlights fell to the small of her back. As she approached the figure, his uniform caused her to cease all movement. There on his right breast was the logo of International Rescue, and on his right sleeve was spelled vertically THUNDERBIRD. The Hood had done it. He had kidnapped a member of International Rescue. This man could not have any idea what the Hood had in store for him.

Well he would not succeed if she had anything to do with it. Though she knew from experience that no one had ever escaped His clutches, she would work until her dying breath to see that the Hood did not get his evil way. Her shoulders back, eyes steely, she swore she would help this man escape.

Carefully, and with tenderness, she undid the front of his shirt. Careful not to touch his painful ribs more then necessary, she quickly wound the long, sturdy silk piece around his torso. Getting as tight as she could without causing more damage, she neatly tied it off and did up his shirt again. Next, she checked his wrist and winced. Since he could not hold himself up, the metal of the shackles was eating into his skin. She was back where she had started. She had nothing to use as a cushion for his wrists. Looking around she came back to her slave outfit. It resembled something out of an old desert movie. It looked like a small, turquoise two-piece swim suit that had see-through white silk sleeves and leg and mid-drift coverings. Completing the ensemble was a pair of turquoise silk slippers and at one time, her hair wrap.

Thinking quickly, she carefully tore the white silk from around her mid-drift. He had more need of the cloth then she did. Tearing it long ways, she went first to the right wrist. Carefully she grasped the limp arm and moved the wrist until there was enough room between it and the manacle to insert the cloth. Gently, she moved the cloth around the wrist until it was soon protected by a thick wad of silk. Quickly, but as gentle as she could, she repeated the process on the left wrist. Standing back to view her handiwork, her eyes were drawn to his lowered head. For a moment, all seemed, relatively, fine. Then, for an instant, her eyes caught a drop of red fall onto his uniform from the left side of his forehead. Swiftly, she tore off her left silk sleeve and folded it several times.

She stood right next to the lifeless figure and placed her right hand under his chin. Slowly, she lifted his chin up until she was looking him squarely in the face. Instantly, she jumped back and fell backwards a good ways from the still unconscious figure. Her mouth opened, but no words came forth.

Slowly and deliberately, she got up and returned to the side of the unconscious man. She once again carefully lifted up his face until she could see his entire visage. Her eyes grew wide. There was no mistake, it was he. She opened her mouth and spoke his name but no words came out.

 

Scott?!

******

No. It was impossible. Scott and International Rescue, impossible! And yet, it made perfect sense. The Tracys had always been caring and kind to others. She knew that from personal experience. Scott, in particular, had been a sweet and kind boy, though he had hid his caring nature under a gruff and in control attitude. She was now even more determined to help International Rescue and foil the Hood’s scheme.

Tenderly she wiped the trickle of blood, then, by tearing of her right sleeve, she made a compress and a bandage to wrap around his head. Standing back to survey her work, she noticed that he was beginning to wake up. She was extremely nervous about that. Would he remember her? Would he remember how…?

Scott slowly opened his eyes. He didn’t want to. There didn’t seem to be a part of his body that didn’t hurt. Wearily, he raised his head, only to be confronted with a pair of deep blue eyes. Before he could react, the young woman in front of him leaped backwards, landing on her backside and instantly curling up into a little ball. For several long minutes, neither said a word. The female studied the floor and pulled her arms tighter around herself. The man studied the young lady. He didn’t know quite what to think. The girl was dressed in something that was little more then a bikini. This was made of a blue-greenish cloth that looked like silk. Her legs were further covered thanks to a white see-through material that didn’t quite hide the fact that her legs were marked with lashes and old scars. These also covered her arms, which must have been clothed with the white material at one time. Long brown hair flowed down her badly scarred back and onto the stone floor. She looked so scared and vulnerable that Scott’s heart went out to her. He had to help this poor creature.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you. I think I’m in the same fix as you are. My name’s Scott. What’s yours?” The girl slowly raised her head. Their eyes locked, and Scott felt a swift pang in his gut. Those deep blue eyes told a story for all to see. It seemed that all her fears, all her pain, all her shattered hopes and dreams were written in those expressive eyes. Yet, there was a nobility, a strength at their core that held the promise to never quit. Her face was almost elf-like in appearance and held a child-like vulnerability in its structure. She had a beauty that was not limited to the exterior, but instead was internal and radiated out to enhance her physical beauty in a way Scott had never seen, except once. He mentally shook his head, wanting to be rid of that thought. 

“I promise I won’t hurt you. Won’t you tell me your name?” The girl shook her head. Her eyes narrowed for a second, and her brow furrowed. Then, looking directly into his equally blue eyes, she put the fingers of her right hand against the middle of her throat and tapped gently, shaking her head simultaneously. Scott had no clue, and suddenly the light bulb came on.

“You won’t tell me your name because you can’t. You can’t talk, can you?” The girl nodded sadly.

“I’m sorry.” The girl looked him in the eyes, and he could read in her eyes as clearly as if she had said it, “It’s ok, it’s not your fault.”

“Have you never been able to talk?” She shook her head, then using her right hand she pushed away from her to her right, pointed to herself, then gestured to the floor. Scott was amazed that he could understand and communicate with her.

“You could speak before you were brought here?” Lips twitching ever so slightly up, she nodded.

“Man, there has to be a better way for us to communicate.” The girl frowned, thinking deeply. Then she raised both of her hands, which were still bound by the shackles, and began signing.

**There is if you know sign language.** Scott laughed softly.

Waving his hands slightly, he said, “I can’t sign like this, but yes, I do know sign language.” The girl smiled for the first time in many years.

**I’m so glad. It was going to be hard if you couldn’t. This may be stupid to ask, but you are with International Rescue, right?** Scott nodded.

“That’s where I learned sign language. Helps with communication, and lets us operatives ‘talk’ to each other when we don’t want people to know what we’re saying. How long have you been here?”

Sadly, she answered. **I’m not sure. I know it has been a few years, but there is no knowledge of time here, at least not for the slaves and prisoners.**

“Will you tell me your name?” She nodded, then began to spell it out for him.

She first held up her right hand and extended her thumb and first finger so that they made a right triangle.

**“L.”**

Next, she moved her four fingers so that they rested against the thumb, creating a circle.

**“O.”**

Then she made a fist, slipping her thumb between the second and third fingers.

**“N.”**

Finally, she made another fist, this time, placing her thumb, pointing straight up, next to the curled fingers.

**“A.** Lona? That’s a pretty name. I once had a…anyway. Do you know anyway out of this…this hell-hole?”

**No. There is none that I know of. Don’t think it wasn’t for lack of trying. But all you get for your troubles is this.** She turned around and let him see the full extent of the damage done to her back. When she turned back around, she noticed that Scott looked a little green around the edges.

**Sorry. But I thought you’d need to know what you were dealing with. He is totally ruthless. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants. When physical threats and violence do not work, he always has emotional and psychological tortures at his disposal.** Scott nodded.

“I’ve never personally met the Hood before, but my d…commander and a buddy has. What he did to us…he is utterly without scruples. That’s why we must get out of here, both of us.”

Lona could not raise her head as she felt salty tears well up in the corners of her eyes. Finally, when she knew she had her emotions under control, she raised her head. Scott found himself staring into the hardest, steeliest eyes he had ever seen. Lona raised her hands.

**Both of us.**


	8. Pain and Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We briefly get to see what the family has been going through and what they are planning, before we check in again with Scott and Lona.  
> Warning: While I reiterate that there is nothing graphic, it is clearly implied what is going on during the 'punishment' part. You might want to skip that part if it might offend you or skim it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to remind you all now that you know what's going on that sign language will be in bold.
> 
> If you have ever read this on Fanfiction.net, you might realize I've changed a bit in this chapter. Otherwise, it's been a faithful repost.

It had been ten days since Scott had been brought to the Hood’s lair, nine days since he had met Lona. On Tracy Island, the family lifelessly went about their lives. Brains locked himself in his lab and frantically worked on a new idea. Onaha and Kyrano worked out the menus and cooked for the large family. When this did not occupy them, Onaha spent time cleaning the young pilot’s room for Scott if…when he came home. Attacking the dust with unnecessary violence, she alternated between waging war against the room and careful, thoughtful care. Silent tears fell from her eyes as she wondered if he would ever see it again.

Fermat, Alan, and Tin-Tin explored every inch of the Island until they would know where they were blindfolded. The two friends had found it was better to keep Alan busy so he wouldn’t think about his older brother too much. He was retreating from everyone, and Fermat and Tin-Tin were going to put a stop to it, even if it killed them.

The rest of the family was busy in the lounge. Jeff, his sons minus Scott and Alan, Lady Penelope, Parker, and Kyrano were busy making plans for their biggest search and rescue mission: to find one of their own.

“Kyrano, you’re sure that both of the men’s accents were from your region of Malaysia?”

“Yes Mr. Tracy. I am quite sure. I spent most of my youth there.” Jeff nodded.

“Then I think we should concentrate our search in that area. Now,” he said spreading out a map of the area, “this is the part of Malaysia we are focusing our attention on. It is still a very large area, and there is no way we can scan it from the air. That would tip off the Hood. There is no doubt that he would kill Scott rather then give us the opportunity to rescue him. I will not take that chance. We will be splitting up into groups of twos and threes. Always watch your backs and keep on your guard. We don’t need more of us to be captured, too.” All nodded their understanding and agreement.

“Alright. Parker, Penny-I need both of you to pretend to be holiday tourists. Penny, I believe you told me you have contacts there?” The elegant, young heiress nodded her platinum blond head and smiled. She could easily play the stupid, rich kid, eager to see how the other half lives. But she was sharp as a tack and knew how to listen without seeming too. She was the perfect spy.

“John, you and Gordon are to set up a look out post on the highest mountain in the area,” he explained, pointing to the lone mountain in region. “Get permission, claiming to be doing scientific observations up there.” John had a college degree in Astronomy and had already written a well-received book on space. It would be easy for him to convince the right people to let him set up his equipment. If they dropped the name Tracy enough, they would get permission. What would seem as an innocent observatory would in actuality be an amazing tracking station. John and Gordon would listen to all radio frequencies, and with a new invention of Brains, all phone conversations, too. Jeff would never let anything that sensitive be used by anyone but his sons, whom he trusted. John and Gordon would also be coordinating the search and, hopefully, the rescue.

“Virgil, you, Kyrano, and I will be backpacking up and down the district, looking for any suspicious activity.” Virgil nodded. He knew it was fruitless to try to talk his father out of going on the rescue. Jeff was determined to go, and besides, it would probably be worse for his health to remain home, worrying about everyone else. Kyrano had to go with them, as he was the only one who knew the language.

Jeff nodded one last time and let the map roll on itself. As everyone was about to leave, he pulled John aside.

“Make sure you continue to monitor communications with Thunderbird 5. If Scott should escape, he will attempt to contact us that way.” John agreed and hurried off to pack. Operation “Old” Retrieval, named as such thanks to Gordon, had begun.

**************

The Hood left Scott alone for a couple days, letting him heal and worry about what was to come. During this time, Scott saw no one but the slaves who feed him and occasionally exercised him. On the third day, a door off to the side was thrown open. Scott strained until he could see who it was.

Walking smugly in all his princely glory, the Hood moved over to the throne sitting on a slight dais. Sitting down in it, he motioned for a slave to leave. He then turned and regarded Scott.

“I hope you enjoyed meeting my slave Lona. She has been with me for quite some time and is showing promise.” Scott saw red as this evil man discussed his destruction of Lona as a human being with humor.

“She is not your slave!” Chuckling softly, the Hood turned and regarded Lona herself as she was pushed into the throne room. Scott also saw her and his heart went out to her.

She had a new costume on today, and anyone could see by the tightening of her jaw line, she was none too pleased. It consisted of a dark tannish colored, silk bikini with long silky streamers hanging from the waist and middle of the arms. Her long hair was intricately braided and draped around her head. This time her hands were free, but a metal chocker was fastened around her throat, and a chain was attached to it. The male slave handed the chain to his master and left. Lona stood as still as a statue and seemed to see nothing. She was not facing Scott, yet he saw her throw imperceptible glances in his direction. This silent, tense time went on for several minutes.

Suddenly, the Hood jerked the chain hard, sending Lona flying straight at him. She landed in a heap at his feet and was unable to rise as she tried to gasp for air.

Scott strained against the chains that held him and screamed, “Let her go! Leave her alone!” Before he could shout anything else, movement from Lona caused him to pause. Secretly, she brought her first and second fingers together, then holding them straight, she brought them down onto her thumb.

**No.**

The Hood slithered over to Scott until their faces were inches from each other.

“What did you say?” Scott couldn’t keep the loathing inside anymore. He could see Lona slowly getting to her feet, eyes blinking furiously, trying to keep tears from spilling over. He spat hatred and saliva onto the Hood’s face. Instead of exploding, as Scott had thought and hoped, he clapped his hands. Three slaves came to their master’s side. One quickly handed him a towel, and he took his time wiping all of the wetness off his face. Then he gestured to the two goons standing by, one holding a long whip. Quickly dropping it, he hurried with his fellow slave to Lona and grabbed her. Scott was horrified.

“Your quarrel is with me! Don’t involve the girl!” The Hood coolly examined him.

“I want you to see what will happen if you ever dare to do that again. Besides,” he said as he began walking towards his throne, “this is more painful for you then if I had them whip you.”

Much to Scott’s surprise, Lona did not struggle. Instead, she stood still as they removed the collar, and then forced her towards the middle of the room. Scott had not noticed it before, but there was a large circle there with wrist and ankle cuffs placed in strategic places. Lona was forced to lie down on her stomach, while her hands and feet were bound. Scott didn’t know if it was on purpose or by accident, but she was turned so they were looking eye to eye. Lona’s eyes were wide with fright, yet she was trying desperately to remain calm.

There was a vast expanse of silence. Then the Hood raised his hand. Lona could see it reflected in Scott’s emotion-filled eyes. She saw it fall, and prepared herself for what was to come. Still, she flinched terribly when the leather cut into her skin. Though no sound escaped her lips, one only had to peer into her blue eyes to read the pain, both physical and mental, she was experiencing. Scott heard repeatedly the crack of the whip, but he did not register the knowledge. His whole being was focused on the eyes that seemed to scream for the silent tongue. Lona’s eyes were fastened on Scott’s face. She would not give into the pain; she would not give into the pain. Scott’s heart broke as he saw one, lone tear creep down her cheek. And the sounds continued.

CRACK.


	9. Operation 'Old' Retrieval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We check in with the various members of International Rescue as they search for Scott.

THUNDERBIRD 2 landed on the tarmac of Kota Kinabalu’s airport in the middle of the night. The airport police escorted the huge airplane into an oversized hanger. They then left so that International Rescue could lock down on their own. No one was to know that a Thunderbird had landed on Borneo, especially in the region of Sabah because the Tracys were sure the Hood had spies working for him. IR had once saved the head of the airport’s life, and when Jeff had called him on the videophone, sound only selected, he had been very willing to help them. Only handpicked men had been there to assist with the landing. Virgil had a hurried conference with the airport’s head, and then ran over to where Jeff was giving last minute instructions to the search and rescue teams.

He was in full commander mode now. He had to be because he knew that if he allowed himself to be the worried father, it would completely undo him. He thought back to the incident roughly a year ago with the Hood. He remembered looking into each of his son’s faces when they realized THUNDERBIRD 5 would be their tomb, seeing their strength and willingness to lay down their lives for what they believed. He remembered he worried for Alan through the whole time, yet it had been unfounded. His youngest had proven himself beyond all expectations, and Jeff had been proud of him and was still proud of him. Now, Scott was in deadly danger, if he was not already…NO! He would not think like that. They were a rescue organization; they would do what they did best: rescue.

“Penny, you and Parker stay in Kota Kinabalu. See what you can find out from your contacts here; also just find out all you can about the criminal organizations around here.” The young blond nodded and gestured Parker to get the shockingly pink car ready. Before she left, she looked at each of the Tracy brothers, Kyrano, and finally, Jeff. These brave men, who almost risked their lives daily so that others might live, did not deserve to be put through this hell. Her eyes lingered for a moment longer on Jeff. He still had not noticed that her attitude towards him was not strictly friendship, but then as she had told him, girls were generally the first to figure things of that nature out. So, until he did, she would stand by his side and support him in any capacity she could. 

“He will be safe, Jeff.  We will find him. Parker and I will be praying.” Jeff nodded, then grabbed the offered aristocratic hand. Shaking hands, she hurried over to her car and drove off. John and Gordon moved to stand by their father.

“Boys, the airport head has given us full use of one of their planes. Take the equipment up to the top of Mt. Kinabalu. Set up and begin scanning all frequencies. Keep the plane, we may need it.” John and Gordon nodded. Shaking everyone’s hands, the two men walked steadily to the waiting aircraft. With a last glance at his departing sons, Jeff turned to the remaining family members. Everyone stood around severe and silent. Shouldering his survival pack, Jeff started to walk out of the hanger. Turning to his remaining son and faithful friend, he looked them hard in the eyes.

“Let’s go get Scott back.”

**************

Lady Penelope sat in what was the equivalent of a seedy pub in Kota Kinabalu. Dressed in the “stupid” tourist rendition of the local dress, she sipped watered down whiskey. While most people thought of secret agents roles as one rollicking adventure, the truth was that most of her time was spent in waiting-in breathless anticipation of news. Staring at her cup, she wondered if it really was watered down. Shaking the melodramatic thought from her head, she concentrated on the door for a brief second. She was waiting for her informant, Injin Talmel, who was to have met her at 2:00. It was now 2:25, and Penny was beginning to get worried. He had never been late for a meeting before. Something was wrong. When you had been in the field as long as she had, you acquired a sense for danger, or you died very quickly. Lady Penelope had an inimitable danger sense. She could tell a mile away if something was wrong. And right now, as some would say, her spider sense was tingling.

Looking around surreptitiously, she gave a quick, unobtrusive shake of the head to the obviously British man sitting at the table near the window. He quickly got up, paid his bill, and left. Penny gave one last look around, and then paid her own bill. Walking jauntily out, she was quickly helped into a shockingly pink car, and was whisked off to her hotel. Parker had barely closed their door when Lady Penelope suddenly grabbed a charm on her bracelet and turned around quickly. The small man, who had been standing in the dark corner, quickly raised his hands above his head. Penny sighed and lowered her arm, letting go of the small revolver charm. This, thanks to IR’s Brains, was a working replica of a revolver which was very handy in tight places. However, they were safe, for the moment. She inclined her head gracefully to the stranger.

“Injin Talmel, it is absolutely delightful to see you again. How have you been, dear boy?” Mr. Talmel bowed sincerely to this wonderful young woman. She gave so willingly to others that he could not live with himself in his selfish cowardice.

“My lady, I must beg your forgiveness.” As he said this, he fell to his knees and wept bitterly. Penny was just slightly disconcerted. She was at a loss as to how to deal with a grown man sobbing at her feet. Her training held, as her quick mind searched for a way to acknowledge the man’s words without dealing a blow to his pride.

“What are you talking about dear boy? What have you done?” She winced inwardly, but allowed not a microscopic bit of it to show. Not her best line, but, curse it, she was slightly off kilter as it was.

“I did as you asked. I listened in to conversations, talked to friends, and gathered information for you. But I was overheard. A large man came to my house today and threatened my wife and children. I had to swear to him I would not come to you, but you have always been kind to them and me. I have a debt, one I will never be able to repay, but I must try.” Lady Penelope wasted no time. So the Hood was threatening her people now; well, he was messing with the wrong woman. She may not have shown her best the last time she faced him, but she had had quite enough of losing. He would not be able to carry out his threat; she would not let him.

“Parker, the car please. Mr. Talmel, I believe you. We are dealing with a ruthless man, who will stop at nothing to stop my…employer. We are going to take you to your family. I am sending all of you to England. You will be under my protection.” Talmel bowed once again. This lady was an angel of mercy; his family would be safe. As he watched her eyes turn steely at a private thought, he almost felt sorry for the Hood. This woman was sweet and a perfect lady, but she was dangerous.

****************

John and Gordon hurried to set up the command center. The top of the highest mountain in Malaysia was not extremely cold, just annoyingly so. Hurrying as quickly as they could in order to keep their bodies warm, they unpacked the plane and began to set up. As soon as the heated tents were set up, John sat at a bigger version of Mobile Control in the largest tent. Flicking the switch that powered up the consul, he glanced out of the tent to his younger brother. Gordon was just finishing the placement of the last antenna on the snow covered ground. John sighed. This…situation was hard on all of them. Scott was the oldest. He had been there for all of them. He knew just what to say and do. He knew how each of them dealt with things and what each one couldn’t deal with. He would listen to everyone’s problems but never open up about his own, so much like his father. He was closest to Virgil and John, but John was usually in the space station. He amended that thought; he was always in the space station. Virgil was often the one who held Scott together when the breaking point was reached. And Scott did the same to Virgil. They were as close as brothers could possibly be, as thick as thieves. It had been true since Virgil was born, and on through their teen and now adult years. Scott loved, admired, and protected Virgil while Virgil worshiped, loved, and protected Scott. John closed his eyes in silent prayer as his thoughts turned to his second oldest brother. As rough a time as he was going through, John knew that Virgil was right now going through his personal hell.

***************

Virgil rolled over in his sleeping bag for the hundred thousandth time. He had been trying to sleep for the past five hours, but so far it had been extremely elusive. He, his father, and Kyrano were heading for the plantation Kyrano’s father had owned. From what Kyrano had told them, it was a large, beautiful place; or it had been when he had left. It was approximately three miles from the infamous mine where the man now known as the Hood had run a slave operation. Jeff had rescued Kyrano there, and ever since then Kyrano had been a member of the family. It was also where the Hood had almost died and where his undying hatred of International Rescue had been born. The mine and the house still belonged to Kyrano’s half brother, which the Tracy’s knew as the Hood.

 It was going to be a long, hard journey, taking many days. Jeff had thought about using a vehicle, but had rejected the idea. He hoped that by hiking across country they would avoid detection by the Hood’s minions. Virgil’s greatest fear was that they would be too late. If anything happened to Scott… Mentally shaking himself, he rolled over once again and tried to sleep.


	10. They Would Pay Dearly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Lona continue to suffer at the Hood's hands.   
> Warning!  
> There is Scott torture in this chapter. This is the most graphic chapter in the story, so if you are worried about reading that, this may be the chapter to skip.

Scott shifted and smothered a yelp of pain. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult as his arms were held at such an unnatural angle. Flexing his stiff and sore arm muscles, his breath came out in a hiss of pain. Sometimes he wondered whether the physical torture was worse then the mental and emotional tortures the Hood was constantly putting him through. Other times, he knew the answer.

He looked over at the pitiful figure lying on the harsh stone floor. Good, Lona was still asleep. Scott could see her breath softly and how peaceful her face was. Her face was only peaceful when she was asleep. When she was awake, her face was lined by either the horrors she had seen or the pain she had suffered. Scott could not tell which of these caused the distortion. She had been whipped several times since Scott had been brought here, and he felt awful. The Hood was using her to break him, and what made Scott feel so bad was it was working. He had all but given up on either of them getting out of this hellhole. He only hoped he would die before he was broken. He did not want to speculate what would happen if the Hood used a mentally broken Scott against his family.

The next day, the Hood held his first party since Scott’s capture. All of his higher acquaintances, as well as those operatives that were enjoying his unusually high favor because of Scott’s capture were there. All experienced great pleasure at hurling insults at the unfortunate young man. Acrobats and jugglers entertained the vast number of guests, while slaves wandered around carrying refreshments. Lona had told Scott not to be surprised at anything. The Hood was a businessman, and he had to keep his employees happy. He also had to show his acquaintances how wealthy he was.

The Hood walked in, and everyone bowed to him except for his business acquaintances. He was holding a beautiful chain, if one can be called that, which was attached to a collar hooked around Lona’s neck. Scott knew she had told him to not be surprised, but her costume was…well shocking. The bikini parts were all red with gold embroidery. From her waist hung long strings of beads that enhanced every movement made by the small, emaciated form, and streamers of different colored silk hung from her forearms and collar, and her hair, which hung down to the small of her back, was braided with streamers likewise. It was like she was some glorified pet. Scott couldn’t bear the way all of the men were leering at her. If only he could get free, he would show all of them what he thought of them. Lona must have seen on his face what he was thinking because she looked him right in the eye and carefully shook her head.

As soon as the Hood sat on his throne with Lona forced to sit on the floor beside him, several tumblers ran out to the center of the room. They quickly began building sculptors out of their bodies only to fall and roll around. Executing complicated twists and turns, they bent their bodies in ways Scott had never thought the human body could. This went on for some time until the group all landed in front of the Hood. Bowing low, they waited for him to pass judgment. He stood and grabbing a bag a slave handed him, dropped it in front of the leader, gold spilling out of the open mouth of the bag. Kowtowing still lower, the group moved off.

A gong was sounded, and simultaneously a loud, shrill scream was sounded. Ten female dancers ran out and began moving to music produced by a two or three different stringed instruments and a drum. Scott turned bright red at what was going on in front of him. This was degrading not only to him, though he had always been taught that a man should be better then this, but to Lona as well. By the stony visage she had, he knew she was as disgusted as he was. The Hood must have noticed his discomfort because as he glanced at Scott, an evil expression lit up his face. Suddenly standing up, he raised his hands for silence.

“It seems to me that something is missing from this little party we are having. Why, it must be that Lona has yet to entertain us. We must all beg that she would deign to show us her…talents.” There was much chuckling among the men gathered round him. Scott turned red at the insinuations the Hood was making. Lona, with a look of fear and loathing etched on her face, was staring at nothing. With a flick of the Hood’s wrist, Lona was dragged in front of him.

“Let’s see if you have more strength then last year.” Everyone was watching eagerly, almost as a hunter watches its prey. Lona fought, fought harder then Scott had ever seen her fight. A third slave came over and grabbed her wayward head. Slowly, with great difficulty, he forced her to face the Hood. He grabbed her face with one of his large, calloused hands and moved in until their faces were inches apart. Scott could see the Hood’s face, and he saw his eyes become red and his pupils become cat-eye slits. Struggling desperately against his chains, Scott started to yell at Lona to not open her eyes. Before he could get a sound out though, he found himself quickly subdued and hands roughly covered his mouth. Lona struggled and strained for some time before finally falling limply against the restraining arms of he captors. The Hood stepped even closer and whispered in her ear for sometime. Scott could not move, could not think, could hardly breath-even aside from the fact that multiple hands were covering most of his face. The Hood had hypnotized her, and Scott knew from what his family had told him-what Brains had told him of his encounter-that he could make you do anything he wanted. Lona had told him before that she had never been able to free herself while under his control. What would happen now?

Suddenly, Lona stood straight up, head lifted high. The brief surge of hope that filled Scott’s heart was quickly dashed when Lona unhooked the chain attached to her collar, and then wrapped her arm suggestively around the man she hated most in the world. Despair pushed out all the hope that had just filled Scott’s body and left a vacuum. Lona was under the Hood’s complete control.

“My dear, all of my guests are bored. What do you say to an exhibition of your skills?” Scott’s eyes narrowed. What skills? Lona nodded and moved to the center of the room. Facing the wall where Scott hung, restrained by both metal and muscle, she motioned him to be unchained. The men holding him looked to their master for guidance, but he only nodded and seated himself back on his throne.

 Scott tried to prepare himself as the men loosened the metal cuffs from his battered wrists. But it was to no avail. His knees buckled as his shoes encountered the stone floor, and he landed in a heap. He rose as quickly as his shaky legs allowed, planting them so he would not fall over again. As soon as he was up, Lona started for him but was stalled by the voice of the Hood.

“Not yet, my dear. He would not be much of an opponent now. Give him time, he needs for his legs to get use to supporting him.” Lona stayed where she was, her eyes focused on Scott as if she were evaluating him, for what he could not say. He searched her eyes trying to find his friend in them but to no avail. The Hood had her under his complete control, and she could do nothing to break free. 

As soon as his legs stopped shaking, the Hood nodded to him and offered one bit of advice, “You had better defend yourself, International Rescue.” Scott was not sure what he meant, but he was afraid in a way he could not explain. He knew that this was technically not Lona, at least not in her actions, but he could not bring himself to hurt her. What was he going to do?

Before he could think any further, Lona struck. Drawing her leg back, she let go and high-kicked him in the head. Scott went back and down, coming to a rest just short of the stone wall. He did not even get a chance to pick himself up before she was on him. Quickly, she wrapped her thin, scarred arm around his neck, and applied pressure. Scott could feel his lungs straining for the oxygen being deprived them. As his vision blurred and black spots dotted the crowd in front of him, he threw himself forward, pitching Lona over his head. Totally unprepared for his action, the young woman hit the ground in a sprawl.

Scott eased himself off the hard floor and stood, his lungs sucking in all the oxygen they could. He watched as Lona leaped to her feet. She stared at him, gauging him as an opponent, not recognizing him as a friend. Then suddenly, she came straight at him.

They traded blows for several minutes; some finding their mark, but most were blocked as the two knowledgeable fighters traveled up and down the room. Soon, however, Scott’s abused and malnourished body began to slow down. The seasoned combatant she was, Lona took full advantage of this, pressing him harder and harder. Suddenly, there came a blow he could not block in time. Lona’s arm slid between his defenses and hit him squarely in the throat.

Scott felt his larynx pushed roughly back by the force of the blow. Coughing and chocking, he collapsed to the stone floor. He could not get a breath. He knew that if he did not calm down, he would hyperventilate and then be in serious trouble, but he could not seem to stop.

The Hood stared down at the Tracy son, watching him struggle for a single breath. When Lona moved in to finish the kill, his single word command halted her in her tracks. His guests had greatly enjoyed the exhibition, never realizing the emotional trauma going on around them. All they could see was the violence.

Lona stood there, staring at nothing. However, there was an inner battle being waged. Her conscious self was fighting a desperate battle against the Hood’s control. At his next voice command, she felt her body move towards Scott, despite her fight to stay where she was. He then told her mind to attack the defenseless man in front of her.

Scott was still trying frantically to catch his breath when he felt the foot connect with his rib cage. A gasp escaped his lips as he felt the bone give way under the force of the strike. For several minutes, blows rained down on the hapless man, and soon his skin was covered with a mixture of sweat and blood. During all this, a blow hit his broken ribs. The force of the blow knocked all the breath from his body, and he began coughing uncontrollably. Soon his coughing brought up blood from his pierced lungs.

When Lona saw Scott coughing up blood, something rose up within her. She fought as she never had before, battling with everything in her to break the hold the Hood had over her. Suddenly, the control over her snapped in two. Falling to her knees, she immediately began offering him what medical attention she could.

Scott, while fighting for every breath, felt a rush of pride for Lona. He was worried about her and for himself; he knew he was in a bad way. Nevertheless, at the same time, he could not deny the pride he felt at what she had done. She had finally resisted the Hood’s mind control over her. She had fought him, truly, for the first time.

The Hood was furious. She had broken his control. She had fought him, Lona, who had only a week ago had been inches from the breaking point. Not only had she resisted, but she had beaten him in front of his guests. Both she and the Tracy boy would pay. They would pay dearly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first envisioned the story, Lona danced rather then fought. However, I never could see her breaking the Hood's mental control as a dancer. I like how this chapter turned out as I wanted to show that Lona was not able to fight against the Hood until she was protecting someone else. Scott has been completely floored by his imprisonment; this is not something they have trained for. Lona seems more proactive not because she's so amazing versus Scott, but because she's had time to accept what has happened to her...and now with Scott's arrival, she has hope again.


End file.
